


The second day of the rest of their lives

by Lory221B



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comedy, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-05-17 00:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lory221B/pseuds/Lory221B
Summary: Apocalypse failed, execution escaped, dinner at the Ritz.Everything seems to be going well... maybe... not really.





	1. Where we were?

♫ Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had   
I've been with you such a long time   
You're my sunshine and I want you to know   
That my feelings are true   
I really love you   
Oh, you're my best friend ♫   
\- Queen -

 

Crowley woke up sleepier than when he had gone to bed at least six or seven hours earlier.  
  
« Ok, so…Where we were? » He asked to his reflection in the mirror« Ah yes, Apocalypse failed, execution escaped, dinner at the Ritz »    
  
He had taken this bad human habit of sleeping every now and then and after all that had happened, he had collapsed in his bed, not even the time to arouse some fear of the plants that had gone unpunished for too long, while he was busy saving the world with Aziraphale.  
  
He had never stopped to reflect on this need, absolutely human and not at all demonic, to sleep; he had embraced the world of the nap like Aziraphale had done with that of lunches and dinners.  
  
"Aziraphale," he repeated to himself, as if naming him aloud could suddenly appear. He was so used to having the angel around, that the lack gave him a strange thrill. Not that they hadn't been separated over the centuries, it was a constant meeting in the strangest places.  
  
But this time it was different, it had to be different. Or at least Crowley wanted it.  
  
He had offered to go and live together, when they had remained on the bench waiting for the bus to London and he had declined the offer, still worried about their respective factions. For this reason he was alone, in his house, talking to his reflection, instead of laughing at some stupid Aziraphale magic trick.  
  
« Nothing has changed, he is always on his own, that damn... emh, angelic angel » If he expected a comment from the mirror, it didn't arrive, there was only the image of a demon quite messed up.  
  
At least he had accepted the passage to the bookstore, he thought to himself, even though the trip had been rather devoid of verve. Not even the notes of Queen had raised the mood of the unlikely couple.  
  
"Maybe it wasn't the right song," he commented to himself, sitting up in his usual chair.  
  
He was annoyed. There were few things that really bothered him; in reality his perennial attitude was more a style than a true conviction. It bothered him to follow the wrong companies and be "fallen" from Heaven - but this would never have been confessed to the angel. He was still bothered by the unfortunate idea of introducing flared trousers, but what most bothered him was the strange sensation he felt when he was close to Aziraphale, a sort of inner turmoil that didn't leave him in peace.  
  
They had remained in an embarrassing silence that had never happened in 6000 years, in his damn Bentley and this annoyed him even more. Well, maybe, come to think of it, it had already happened when the angel had confessed to him that he had given away the sword. He had stuttered something before he said it and had found it adorable at the time. Then, after all, it had been a mixture of something tender and stupid, very different from the silence that had taken them back to the bookstore.  
As if they were both about to say something but then they immediately thought it over.  
  
"Is everything so ... ineffable? » He snapped, throwing a newspaper at the plants that had almost hoped that the master had softened, taken by heavenly thoughts.  
It wasn't like that, not really.  
  
  
  
Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale had spent his awake time in the bookstore, trying to occupy his mind in activities that did not include conflicting feelings about what had been or should have been, his enemy, or in any way called it.  
  
The dinner at the Ritz had been perfect and then a strange silence, not at all by Crowley.  
  
"A good person and a bastard to be worth knowing" said to themselves before toasting and talking about the usual nonsense. « What a beautiful pair of celestial beings » he said with a raised eyebrow as he laughed nervously.  
  
He had not yet thought about what it meant to not have to depend more on Gabriel and the other angels. But then, was it really like that? Before or later they would stop being angry and start pretending that nothing had happened and would start all over again.  
  
His confused thoughts were interrupted around 8 am by the arrival of a bellboy ready to deliver a bouquet of flowers.  
  
« For me? » He asked excitedly. He had never received flowers and they were beautiful and well-groomed. He didn't know their language but he was sure that those daisies and those tulips whispered something romantic.  
  
A strange sensation invaded him, that curious way of saying human "butterflies in the stomach" came to mind,  that had always made him smile, because he couldn't imagine such a thing. It seemed to him almost demonic the idea of insects stirring inside the body.  
  
Now, instead, he knew what it felt like and he was enthusiastic about it.  
  
Was he becoming more human and less angel each day?  
  
He took the note that accompanied the daisies and tulips and the smile vanished in a second, along with all the butterflies.  
  
The flowers were from Anathema Device, a thank you for the day of Judgment failed. Although there really wasn't much to thank, it was he who had to thank her for Agnes's book of prophecies.  
  
Disconsolate he put those treacherous flowers in a vase, they shouldn't have belonged to an American girl in velocipede, he was convinced that Crowley had sent them.  
  
But in fact, why would he do it? Yes, he had saved his books during the Second World War and his head from the guillotine in France, not to mention, recently, the story of Satan, but sending flowers was excessive.  
  
"Flowers" had never happened to him in 6000 years. He was definitely becoming more human.  
  
He did not think of Crowley as he was dusting the shelves and did not think of him every time someone entered the shop looking for some book that he would not sell, he would never have separated himself from his rare first editions. He didn't even think of him when he grabbed the phone after a single ring, to find out that it was a call center trying to sell him a new phone subscription.  
  
Just when, finally, he had managed to concentrate his thoughts on something other than the demon with sunglasses, too worried by the guy with the handlebar mustache who was wandering around the first edition of the "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", Crowley appeared in the library.  
  
He had not really appeared, he had entered the shop from the door like any other customer, but Aziraphale had been so surprised that, by fear, he had thrown a pile of books into the air that he was defending from the fearsome customers.  
  
« Are you a little nervous, angel? » Crowley said, bending down to pick up some of the books that had ended up on the ground. While stacking them on the counter, Aziraphale noticed that even” the Guide”  had suddenly appeared among those books while the man with the handlebar mustache, who had been leafing through Douglas Adams's pages eagerly before, was waving lost, perplexed by how the book was no longer in his hands.  
  
« I noticed you stared at him with concern » Crowley said, and even if he couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, Aziraphale was sure he'd squeezed one.  
  
Again the butterflies were stirring.  
  
« Why are you selling books, today? I thought you avoided giving your books away »  
  
« Sometimes I have to sacrifice myself and sell someone. I don't have to get attention »  
  
« Demons? »  
  
« Worse than, tax authorities »  he answered and Crowley laughed. They had once discussed which of the two factions had invented taxes, but neither could remember it.  
  
The laughter faded when his gaze was drawn to something new that was completely out of tune with the bookcase.  
  
« Flowers? Who sent them to you? Have you started flirting? » He asked suddenly, looking at the cured deck, placed in a blue vase. He was really tempted to incinerate it with a snap, but he couldn't risk the bookshop catching fire again.  
  
« You know I don't do these things »  
  
« Which things? »  
  
« Flirting »  
  
« No, in fact, you  let the others do it » he replied, lowering his voice, as if it were possible not to hear him.  
  
The angel, who had heard him very well, opened his mouth several times to say something, in a perfect imitation of the first fish created by God on the fifth day; indeed, in an even more perfect imitation of the fish that stared at Noah's Ark, wondering if anyone had worried that two pairs of each fish didn't have to be saved, because they would all survive in the water, during the flood.  
  
« So, are we unemployed? » Aziraphale changed the subject and he knew that behind those dark glasses Crowley  was disapproving of his pathetic attempt to behave as is nothing has happened.  
  
« For the moment, in the future who knows? I don't think we should worry about it »  
  
« So we could ...» Aziraphale wasn't sure how he wanted to finish the sentence, he wasn't even sure why he had started it. He wanted to propose something in the wake of a sudden enthusiasm, in no way related to the feeling of butterflies whirling around in his stomach.  
  
«Angel, the suspense is killing me. What could we do? »  
  
« We could go to the cinema! We haven’t gone since 1895 »  
  
Crowley looked at him puzzled, he had not expected such a proposal.  
  
« You're daring, angel » he said sarcastically « Yeah, that time when people had fled the cinema because they thought the train would come off the screen, that 1895? »  
  
« Yep »  
  
 « You thought so too, you were trying to block it with a miracle »  
  
« Well, I couldn't have known that those Lumiere were so ... unpredictable »  
  
Crowley laughed, because it was he who suggested to Lumieres that first particular "movie"; he had imagined the reaction of humans, it would have been too much for them and fear was one of those things that a demon loved. A slight sense of guilt had invaded him in 1895, when Aziraphale had really believed it possible that a train came out of the wall and for a moment he had tightened his angelic hand around his arm.  
  
An angel seeking protection in a demon.  
  
He was sure he would end up with a broken wing, running after an angel, but he hadn't lost a feather, just a few dents here and there.  
  
« All right, angel »


	2. Separated?

_You're the first one_  
When things turn out bad  
You know I'll never be lonely  
You're my only one  
And I love the things  
I really love the things that you do  
Oh, you're my best friend  
\- Best friend - Queen

 

After all, the movie night had gone well.    
  
Pretty well.   
  
Perhaps not quite as well, since Crowley's apartment had one less plant, an innocent victim of the demon's frustration.   
  
Sadness was not a feeling that often caught Crowley, apathy had been a faithful ally in six thousand years, punctuated by splashes of happiness caused by encounters with a blond angel.   
  
But since they had saved the world, things had suddenly become strange; the evening had been so inconclusive that it had left a huge sense of emptiness in Crowley. He had to analyse the problem: why was everything suddenly different?  
  
Perhaps because all the unspokend between them, due to their respective positions, now screamed to emerge and they both did everything to drive back any semblance of feeling away from them?   
  
"Feelings" the demon muttered before pouring himself a generous glass of wine. Perhaps in the list of problems he had to focus on, the main question was whether Aziraphale's affection for him was simply due to his angelic nature and nothing more. After all, which angel would choose to spend eternity with a demon?   
  
A slight sense of loneliness caught him. One thing was to help each other to survive six thousand years on Earth, when they were the only celestial beings with whom they were pleasantly in contact; different thing was to choose to keep dating now that there were no miracles or temptations.   
  
It hadn't seemed so complicated when they started fraternizing. He didn't want to lose him and if they couldn't take a step forward in some direction, he wanted at least that everything would return as before, without embarrassing silences.   
  
  
  
On the other side of London, Aziraphale was equally uneasy. Crowley had seemed almost bored, all evening, as if annoyed, so at a certain point in the evening the angel had stopped talking, fearing that his talk was indisposed him.    
  
Inexplicably it seemed that things were simpler during the Apocalypse than now, which was ridiculous, they could finally see each other without acting like spies, without appointments in more or less secret places or the belief that the guy with the hat and the newspaper sat next to them was an archangel under cover. 

  
However Aziraphale was sure of one thing: he didn't want to lose him.   
  
If staying together meant staying apart, however absurd and antithetical it might seem, he would accept it. They would have separated to find themselves, as had happened for six thousand years, so it would have seemed less obvious and boring.   
  
Being separated, that's what it took.   
  
And staying apart seemed like a great idea to put things right again, at least it had seemed in the early hours of the day after the strange movie night, when he decided to find out how to order food with a computer.   
  
Unfortunately he was under the illusion that with the help of the web there was a way to order food also from other countries, in particular crepes in France or pizza in Italy, but he soon discovered that at most he could aspire to something of one of the other areas of London.   
  
He actually liked going to restaurants, enjoying the atmosphere, he had never ordered food to take away; the fact was that the pleasant side of going local was the opportunity or at least the hope, of meeting Crowley, who often showed up with the excuse of having to tempt someone into the area where he was having dinner.    


The clubs were a bit more empty without him, so he might as well try to order some sushi and eat it in the bookshop.   
  
  
After twenty-four hours of "occupying time in the hope of returning to being interesting in the eyes of a certain demon" Aziraphale had decided to try calling him, just to hear his voice and know how he was.   
  
He dialed the number and waited, clearing his throat several times, which had suddenly turned a little dry. At the sixth ring the secretariat entered and Aziraphale did not hold back a disappointed sigh, but at least he had heard his voice.   
  
After forty-eight hours of "I could read that book I had decided to use to level a table leg" the bookshop door was opened. Aziraphale looked up hopefully but he was destined to be disappointed a second time, as had happened after the deliveryman arrived with Anathema's flowers, and this time he was also a little terrified.   
  
« Gabriele, what a umpl… emh pleasant surprise »   
  
The archangel Gabriel made a gesture to silence him and began to walk through the library. He observed what he considered a mass of senseless human things with almost nauseated air, as if they were dust on his wings and Aziraphale was annoyed. There was nothing that he loved more than his books, well maybe there was someone who loved more than his books, but at that moment he was more focused on the archangel that wandered as if he were the master and instead he wasn't even the his superior.   
  
« I don't want to do anything to you » said Gabriele with a fake smile « for now » he added maliciously.   
  
Aziraphale felt like the floor fall from underneath, even though symbolically, it would have been more correct to hear the heavens tear or something similar.   
  
« Listen, we » and underlined the word "we" with a theatrical gesture upwards « and they » with a more disgusted nod down « we were very impressed by your little show. Yours and Crowley's. Survive holy water and hellfire. Incredible »   
  
« Yep » Aziraphale said, displaying false security.   
  
« To the point that we have done nothing but wonder how it was possible. And then guess what? The answer has arrived. You think you are so smart, aren't you? Instead you just exchanged bodies »   
  
« I don't know what you're talking about » he replied, his eyes widening so guilty.   
  
Now Aziraphale was sure of knowing what "cold sweat" meant. But it wasn't for him that he was sweating cold, if Gabriel wanted him dead he wouldn't have bothered to make a monologue like a villain in a 007 movie. The reality was that he was worried about Crowley; if even the demons had arrived at the same conclusion as Gabriel, they would not have been so lenient.   
  
He cursed himself, metaphorically, for having been so foolish as not to impose his presence on Crowley; if he had been a less disappointing friend they would not have found themselves in that mess alone but they could have devised a plan together to survive, once again. That would have made him interesting, he thought.   
  
« Don't waste time denying it. But relax, we have a solution » and with "we "Aziraphale was sure that he meant him and Beelzebub, not he and the other angels. « We will leave you to decide which of the two will die, because whoever eliminates the other, will be forgiven by his own faction. It will be a punishment for both, because I imagine that the other will not be so happy. Or maybe not, maybe the demon Crowley will prefer to throw you into the flames of hell without hesitation to avoid having demons on his tracks forever » he commented with a smirk.   
  
Aziraphale stared at Gabriele as if he were really seeing him for the first time. What had he just asked him to do?   
  
« I mean, what? Should I kill him? » In his head he had said it screaming, but in reality a strange stammer had come out.   
  
« Yes, and I'll give you what humans call "spoilers". I'm doing you a favor by telling you that Crowley has also been contacted by his people, now you know you have to act fast, before he does. They will certainly not warn him that you are about to throw holy water at him, they will only tell him to eliminate you or he will be eliminated. Good day »   
  
He took his leave and in a moment everything had changed for the worse, again.   
  
  
Aziraphale ran out of the bookshoop to hijack the first bus that would pass to Crowley's apartment. The list of planets where they could escape began to repeat itself in the head: Asgard? Gallifrey? Crowley had suggested Alpha Centauri. It was uninhabited, of course, but at least they could be together.   
  
He didn’t know if Crowley wanted to spend eternity with him, now that it seemed to have become so boring but he hope Crowley wanted it.   
  
Arriving at Crowley's apartment, he didn't bother asking himself if it was a futile miracle to open the door with a wave of his hand, he just did it. Aziraphale had never been there; he thought that if he'd agreed to go live with Crowley that evening on the bench, he would have to redecorate from scratch, maybe with something more cheerful.   
  
In any case, it was useless to continue thinking that he had been very foolish not to say yes and run to live with him, he had to concentrate on the present: Crowley was not there and there was no sign of him.    
  
If the demons had already contacted him, he thought that maybe he had gone to the bookshop.  He tried calling his cell phone again but again found himself leaving a message.   
  
He felt hopelessly lost.   
  
  
Crowley did not show up for days and Aziraphale began to believe that the demons had not offered him any agreement, they had simply eliminated him. He didn't know where he was, he had no way of contacting him and he had no idea if he would ever see him again.   
  
Every moment he felt more disconsolate, to the point that he was thinking of going to ask the demons to get answers. Fortunately, he could dismiss the suicidal idea of starting a conversation with the enemy when Crowley reappeared in the bookshop.   
  
A feeling of pleasant relief and happiness pervaded him   « Where have you been? I was so worried! He asked, running to meet him ».   
  
« You exaggerated, I was just ... running around » he replied with a shrug.   
   
Aziraphale stared at him in amazement. He was expecting a rant against angels and demons who plotted to kill each other, instead he kept quiet and seemed a little depressed.   
  
The angel felt again like the floor fall from underneath; if Crowley was not saying anything about escaping to prevent the two factions from forcing them to eliminate him, it was because the demons really didn't tell him that he knew, but only to eliminate or be eliminated.   
  
He took a step back, wondering what the reason for so much silence could be. Was he really thinking about killing him? After all they had been through?   
  
« Something new you want to share? » The angel asked cautiously, and Crowley confined himself to another silent shrug.   
  
« I left you several messages on the answering machine »   
  
« I heard them »  
  
« And I went to your apartment »  
  
« I imagined it, the plants seemed happier » he replied with a slight smile that for a moment comforted the angel.   
  
« So where were you? » Aziraphale replied, hoping that the answer concerned the possibility that Agnes had left another prophecy just for them.   
  
Crowley opened his mouth several times to answer, as if he didn't expect to be pressed that way; it had never happened since they knew each other, Aziraphale had always been patient with him, despite everything.   
  
« Is there a reason why you're doing the third degree, angel? »   
  
That angel felt his heart break, not receiving the answer he expected « No, no one »

 

 


	3. To fall or not to fall?

_Ooh, you make me live_  
_Whenever this world is cruel to me_  
_I got you to help me forgive_  
_Ooh, you make me live now honey_  
_Ooh, you make me live_

\- Best Friend - Queen

 

It had already been five days since Gabriele's visit, that was to say since Aziraphale had considered that the best word to define him and Crowley was  "screwed" or  "doomed" or even, after a few glasses of excellent wine stored in the cellar, even "fucked up".

The main problem was that Crowley had not yet mentioned it. He had disappeared for days, then he had reappeared, he had not explained where he had spent all that time and, with resignation, he acted as if they didn't have a sword of Damocles, or more like a vat of holy water and one other full of fire infernal, on their heads.

Actually, the infernal fire could not be contained in a vat, but it made good the idea of what Aziraphale felt every time he heard a strange noise behind him or saw a flash of light, which turned out to be only normal traffic citizen.

Two more days passed without any plan, at least until his phone rang and he heard Crowley's voice from the other end of the receiver, calling him to meet at St. James Park.

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief; if Crowley intended to meet him at St. James, it meant he was plotting something secret. Of course, maybe it was no longer the best place to work out cumbersome plans behind the celestial and demonic hierarchies, they knew by now that they had met there for years but Aziraphale thought it might even be brilliant, no one would have expected them to return where they had been discovered.

The angel prepared for the meeting with renewed vigor, certain that his friend already had a plan or at least a destination to escape to. In the doubt of having to pack quickly, he threw some clothes and a book into an old tartan bag he had bought in the 50s and never used.

Actually he did not remember why he had bought it, but in the end it would have been useful.

At 3pm they were both in St. James park, the place of secret meetings of spies of all nations. Aziraphale walked down the street, still looking around, certain that even the mildest babysitters could hide Michael in disguise. He had also changed direction several times, in the hope of sowing possible pursuers.

Unlike the angel, Crowley seemed more relaxed than the last time they had seen each other, the attitude was less dejected and decidedly more "like Crowley".

« Hi » Aziraphale whispered, sneaking closer without looking into his eyes, more worried at the passers-by.

In return, Crowley also turned to check what the angel was looking at « Are you ok?  »

« Yes, No. In short, you know » Aziraphale said, who couldn't wait to know what the demon had in mind.

Crowley was not entirely certain of following his friend's thoughts, if things had recently become strange, now it seemed they were even more so.

« Ok » Crowley said slowly, still puzzled. « Do you want ice-cream? »

« An ice-cream? »

Aziraphale was upset. Of course, they had eaten together several times when the world was about to end and in fact had a certain languor but it didn't really seem the case to waste time eating a tasty ice cream when the threat of disintegration loomed over them.

« I thought that certain habits ... You know, what we've always done ... in memory of the good old days » Crowley had  in his mind a much more complex speech, but an uncertain phrase came out that only further undermined the certainties of Aziraphale.

The angel was much more insecure than he tried to externalize and that unpleasant conversation with Gabriele was enough for him, together with the conviction that Crowley was getting tired of him, to make him doubt that his best friend had not decided to avoid their punishment but that he was really thinking of putting it into practice; otherwise why do the nostalgic and keep a reticent attitude?

An explosion at his back, caused by a toy gun, made Aziraphale to jump.

« Angel, are you nervous? » Crowley asked.

« I should not? In short, you disappear, you don't say anything, the ice cream ... » and he underlined the words "ice-cream" waving his hands.

« I swear I don't follow you, did you prefer a crepe? »

The angel became serious and tried to maintain a dignified calm « Oh sorry dear, am I going too fast? »

Crowley could no longer kept days of annoyance and frustration and burst into a desperate laugh « Well, it's ironic that you say that. I thought the problem was my speed against your determination to stay anchored to an excessive morality. You should just leave them »

Aziraphale held his breath « So this would be the solution? "Leave" in the sense of "falling"? So we would upset their plans? »

« Aziraphale have you started trying human drugs? If this is the result, I advise you against it » he replied and passed a hand over his face, as if to check that he was present to himself.

A resentful look and the angel was already on its way to his bookshop. Crowley stared at him, unable to understand where exactly he was wrong. Of all the absurd conversations he had in six thousand years, this exceeded them all.

 

 

A few days later, Crowley was again intent on doing nothing in his apartment, with the firm intention not to rethink the exchange that had so irritated the angel and their sudden inability to communicate.

« I just wanted to get an ice-cream! » He shouted to TV that instead of answering him it was broadcasting a reality show; unfortunately for Crowley it was he who invented reality shows but he soon regretted it, especially since he could no longer find a decent program to watch.

He thought of going for a drive to clear his mind when Aziraphale, who was becoming more unpredictable than he had been practically forever, except perhaps the time he met him in the midst of the Woodstock crowd, entered his living room.

« You know, I thought about it »  he began unceremoniously.

« Good » even though he actually wanted to comment _« So you drank a good tea and you realized you were delirious?_ _»_

« I see only two feasible options and both provide for my sacrifice, but I am ready to do it » he said, encouraging himself by shaking his fist « in short, once I might not have done it but ... well, if those who are supposed to be good come to such a point, I don't know what is my side »

Crowley wanted to respond instinctively "ours" but he was still trying to work out why Aziraphale was talking about sacrifice.

What he wanted to ask was « _Do you think that if we two took a step forward, you would damn yourself? I do not believe, God is love and similar things, he would approve_ » but only came out « Azi, I believe you are exag ... »

« No »  he silenced him and Crowley was rather surprised by so much determination « I don't know if it would hurt much to fall or be burned by the infernal flames but at least in the first case, we would be together, as long as the demons allow it»  the voice had become more broken at the end of the sentence and Crowley, normally opposed to expressing affection, was fighting with the desire to get up and hug him or at least cover him with his wings, but opted for a middle way and took a step towards his friend in an attempt to calm him down.

« Ok, stop. I believe you are actually going too much fast. I don't think that if we finally told each other what we feel, you would come out damned, or burned or other amenities. I don't see it as tragic as you are describing it. I understand that it is difficult for you, perhaps more than for me, but let's face it; it's the two of us, since the beginning of time. Perhaps we too are part of the ineffable plan. God will not punish you and that the archangels go to he... in short, somewhere. I don't think we'll have any problems with them »

« What are you talking about? » Aziraphale asked strangely.

They looked at each other as if they had just received a blow on the head « What are you talking about? »

«The fact that Gabriel told me to kill you to be forgiven and Beelzebub did the same with you »

« What? » Crowley shouted  « I have never spoken to Beelzebub, I do not see him from the Apocalypse »

Only then the angel realize that they were conducting two different conversations for many days.

He scratched his head absently, before sitting in dismay on a chair in Crowley's living room. He hadn't felt so stupid since he had been tricked by Nazi double-agent spies.

«Oh, ugly ba… boon,  so Gabriel lied to me? » He asked more to himself than to the demon.

« You don't know anything? Did he just want me to kill you? » He turned to his friend in search of comfort but Crowley was not entirely sure that he wanted to give it to him; he was starting to put together the pieces of their last conversations and a terrible suspicion had crept into him « Let me understand, how long ago did you see Gabriel? »

« It's ten days now »  Aziraphale breathed.

« And you only tell me today why? ... oh hell, did you think I wanted to kill you? »

He gasped at least a few seconds while Aziraphale was looking for an answer that didn't include stupid suspicious about his friend.

« Well, not really, I thought… »

« Did you think I wanted to force yourself to fall or kill you?  Did you really think that? » He shouted and the angel felt terribly guilty.

« I may have misunderstood your elusive attitude » he murmured to the demon who turned to give him his back and not look at him; if Aziraphale could have seen  Crowley's expression, which was not as angry as the angel believed but only extremely disappointed, would have felt even more guilty or perhaps he would have tried to apologize in the most convincing way possible.

What came out of Aziraphale was instead an attempt to play down, that was little suited the broken heart of Crowley   « Well, now that we have potentially solved the problem, even if I'm still not sure that Gabriel doesn't want to eliminate me anyway, can we talk about what you were talking about? » He tried cheerfully, hoping that they would resume the "reciprocal feelings" speech which was definitely more interesting than "Gabriel played a bad joke on me and I was stupid enough not to trust you".

He was probably asking a little too much.

Crowley whirled and the expression froze Aziraphale » I would say no, angel. Get out now »

And again the world of Aziraphale stopped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, if you like the story would you leave me some comments? or some kind criticism :) I would be very pleased
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading


	4. Heavenly applause?

 

♫ I'm happy at home   
You're my best friend   
Oh, you're my best friend   
Ooh, you make me live   
You're my best friend ♫   
" You are my Best friend "

 

The books could not give Aziraphale the comfort they had always given him when he was in doubt or scared, that is whenever he could not understand the decisions of the upper floors. This time it was different, he had done everything by himself.   
  
« I made a mess »   
  
He stretched in his chair, pondering what the next move could be to make peace with his friend, more disappointed than ever, when a celestial light followed by an unmistakable feeling of warmth brought his attention to the Metatron manifestation at the center of his library.   
  
« Good afternoon Aziraphale »   
  
« Oh, hi, long time no see. From the Apocalypse that wasn’t » he had started rubbing his hands like he did every time he felt nervous. There had been times when Crowley had taken his hands to stop fussing and every time the effect had been immediate, but this time he was alone in facing the celestial wrath.   
  
« We have heard that Gabriel has taken an initiative against you » Aziraphale thought of something intelligent to say but was anticipated by Metatron "He was recalled for this"   
  
" Really? » He asked, amazed.   
  
« Maybe his passions got a hold of him, as in the Middle Ages »  
  
«Yeah, I remember, all those excommunications, then the witch hunt ... So demons don't suspect anything? Crowley is safe? » He asked impulsively, before correcting himself to prevent his feelings from being too obvious « I mean, I don't have to worry about demonic reactions? »   
  
« The demons know nothing » and Aziraphale smiled cheerfully   «And in any case, the angels are not eliminated, only God can decide about his angels »  
  
« Oh, what a relief » Aziraphale thought the speech was closed and had already made a gesture of farewell to the apparition but the Metatron was still there.   
  
« Aziraphale, does not mean that you will be reinstated in your mission. You must meditate on why God left you on Earth. Do you really think he didn't know about your dating? »   


The angel could not believe what he was hearing: was he implying that he had the approval to "fraternize" with Crowley? He approached the Metatron, as if the question required a certain intimacy « Is it a kind of green light? »   
  
The apparition did not hold back and he rolled his eyes, before disappearing.

  
« Ok, I'll take it for a yes. He could at least tell me where to find Crowley » not even the time to reach the phone that a London guide suddenly opened and a circle appeared on the Oxford Street area. « Ok, thanks »   


  
  
In a small room on Oxford Street, a demon with sunglasses was completely unaware that God's official spokesman was advising Aziraphale to look for him and tell him, reading between the lines, everything he was feeling.   
  
He could not even know that sometimes the ineffable plan could include giving directions like any google map; so, Crowley’s eyes bulged when Aziraphale entered into the room where a speed date was in progress.   
  
Crowley, who did not seem to have fully understood the rules of speed dates and was pouring out all his complaints about the angel, to the poor unfortunate woman who sat in front of him, suddenly fell silent when Aziraphale seemed to have noticed.   
  
Miraculously, the girl who was sitting opposite Crowley stood up, giving way to Aziraphale, who sat down in front of the demon, not without some perplexity.   
  
« What are you doing here? »He asked, picking up a flyer announcing the event for singles   « “ _Speed date - three minutes to meet your soul mate_ " What is a speed date? »   
  
« It's a way to find someone to hang out with » Crowley replied carelessly, as if he were talking about the weather or a flaming sword given on loan.   
  
« Oh ... Are you looking for ... company? » Aziraphale seemed even more uncomfortable,   
  
« No, I'm looking for someone who has to listen to me for three minutes »  he replied, drumming his fingers on the clock on the table that was ready to sound a slight alarm when the time was up to meet potential partners.   
  
A girl sitting at a nearby table, intrigued by the sudden appearance of Azirphale in the place where a blonde was sitting before, decided to interrupt the conversation to offer her quiet point of view « In reality no one can do more than your rants, three minutes are too many »   
  
Crowley opened his mouth in horror « I'm not talking to you now, we talked three minutes ago  »   
  
«Crowley, dear, can we talk? » Aziraphale intervened, too anxious for the desire to clarify with the demon to continue listening to the squabbles with the nearby table.   
  
« Angel...» Crowley patiently started but was interrupted again, this time by the boy sitting on the other side « Oh, are you his boyfriend? All he did was talk about you to anyone. Do you really dance the gavotte? »   
  
« Can you concentrate on your speed date? » Crowley shouted.   
  
« Have you talked to these people about me? » The angel asked, with a trembling smile.   
  
« You still have 60 seconds »  
  
« I know I disappointed you, I'm sorry. Is that… »    
  
« Stop it, Aziraphale. Let's face it, you'll never get over the fact that I'm a fallen angel. I'm a demon, I do demonic things so it's normal for you that I try to eliminate you. Or that I would ask you to "fall", as if I didn't know what it felt like »   
  
The sound of the clock sanctioned the end of the three minutes available for the speed date, but there was no risk that someone wanted to sit in place of Aziraphale, everyone was avoiding "the madman with sunglasses" who was annoying people talking about his "angel" who did not trust him, how tender he was and how, in reality, he did not feel he deserved it.   
  
« Time is up » Crowley said with a shrug.   
  
« Do you really want me to leave? » He asked with a sad look, he couldn't imagine how he would have felt in reverse, certainly horrible.   
  
« No puppy eyes, you have no right »   
  
« I'm not making puppy… »   
  
« Yes, puppy eyes like "Crowley I have a stain on the jacket" "Crowley the Nazi villains treat me like a sucker" »  
  
« I never said such a thing »  
  
« You always look at me melancholy or waiting for something, invite me to the Ritz, hold your breath if I propose you to live together  but when I take one step forward, you come up with talk about the fact that we are of different factions, good and bad ... » he snorted disconsolately as Aziraphale tried to put his hand close to his «  Do you know what? I'm leaving » the demon said, jerking the angel's hand and quickly reaching the exit door.   
  
« Well, follow him! »  the nosy girl said from the next table.   
  
Contrary to the rapid stride with which he had left the restaurant, which foreshadowed an immediate dismissal aboard his bentley, Crowley was still on the pavement, intent on mulling over the behavior of the angel.   
  
Aziraphale feared he would have to resort to heavenly help again to find him, but the demon was still out, almost waiting for him.   
  
« Can you just listen to me for a moment? » He asked quietly, but Crowley continued to give him his back, pretending that watching his Bentley was more important than his words.   
  
« All right, I was horrible, but I was ready to fall. For you. Doesn't that make me a little more forgivable? »   
  
Crowley remained motionless, he didn't need to turn around to imagine the pleading face of his angel but still decided to turn around and look him in the eye « This, in fact, was nice »  
  
Aziraphale smiled, because although the demon was so angry, the angel knew that if he was still talking to him he was one step away from forgiving him.   
  
Crowley took off his glasses, almost as if to show how vulnerable he was at that moment. « I had disappeared because I had to think about what I wanted from our relationship. If it could be good for me to be only friends for eternity. How could you think I would have killed you? »   
  
Aziraphale felt very foolish at that time; never, in six thousand years, Crowley had lied to him or deceived him, yet he had let himself be dragged into ever darker thoughts « It seemed to me that something was wrong, that you was irritated with me. I thought you were tired. Then in the car, that night after the Ritz, you were struck dumb by hearing that song on the radio and I thought that ... »   
  
Crowley made a verse halfway between "what are you talking about?" And "angel, you're tender even though I'm angry with you"; Azirpahale tried to ignore the new-found feeling of butterflies in the stomach and tried to  continue « That song "You are my Best friend". You seemed embarrassed and, in fact, you immediately changed it to "Under pressure" »   
  
« Of course, because you seemed embarrassed »  he replied, bewildered.   
  
They both looked at each other seriously and then burst out laughing   « Ok, there may have been some misunderstanding. In any case, I thought you were tired, after six thousand years, of always seeing this face, with my magic tricks and... and I'm a little clumsy and I talk too much and... »   
  
The rest of Oxford Street would never know what else it was Aziraphale because, to shut him up but also because he had wanted to do it for a long time, Crowley had gently placed his lips on him.   
  
It took a while for them to come off, quite awkwardly, that probably would have caused another glimpse of the Metatron if he had observed them.   
  
« What it was that? » Aziraphale asked, touching his puzzled lips.   
  
« You're on Earth from Creation and you don't know what a kiss is?! »   
  
« Of course I know, but I didn't think we could give it too. In this way » he replied, offended, as if Crowley had told him that his jacket had not been fashionable since the 1950s.   
  
« In this way? » Laughed sarcastically « Do you have a mouth and a tongue, angel? » He provoked him but Aziraphale ignored Crowley's teasing tone and continued to focus on the latest, new sensations.   
  
« Okay, let me try again » he said, moving closer, causing an unexpected step backwards from Crowley who ended up slamming into the Bentley’s door.   
  
« I'm not a tester and I've already told you that it's not worth making those puppy eyes »  
  
The angel did not give weight to Crowley's reluctance, above all because while in words he suddenly was so elusive, he had already dragged the angel closer to him. And it simply happened, after six thousand years of slow burning: Aziraphale had managed to publicly express his feelings through a pair of lips resting on those of the other, less and less chastely.   
  
Behind them came a round of applause and, for a moment, Aziraphale deluded himself that he came from Heaven, instead it was only the small group of the speed date, which a few days later he would have tried to learn how to dance the gavotte.   
  
« All right » the angel said « Do we go to you to find out what else we can do that human beings do too? »   
  
Crowley opened his mouth « It should be me tempting you »   
  
In fact it should have been like that but, after all, they had never been a conventional couple.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my story. I really hope you enjoyed it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I hope my not-perfect English is not too ineffable and will spoil your reading.  
> Thanks to anyone who has come this far.


End file.
